In Radio Salience, we are presented with a conundrum: there is a picture in the background. The foreground is split into four, vertical sections, with each section rotating through a random series of images. Our goal is to try and click on an image when it matches what is in the background. Without being lucky, it's basically impossible to intuit immediately what image we are trying to match--it is different every time the game is started (i.e. it doesn't have the same cycle of images). So the player must spend time examining the images that pop up and try to deduce the pattern that is being presented in the randomness. A wrong click will end the "game," forcing the player/viewer/reader to start over.
When we "win," we are shown the full image, though any piece that wasn't specifically on the foreground when clicked will still be partially obscured. Then we get a small story or piece of story that is slowly read to us by an electronic voice. The voice sounds vaguely human and has many of the right cadences, but the reading is stilted and the digital twang makes it obvious this is not a human reader.
There is an audio component to this piece, as well, outside of the voice that reads the stories. While the pictures are shifting, we get a series of random soundbites, split by static, that sound as if a person is surfing the radio for something to listen to. We get a series of commercials, music, stories, etc. On the surface, it seems to have nothing more than the randomness associated with surfing the radio.
Analysis
This month, the question has been raised a few times as to how media has affected the attention span of people and whether or not it is affecting the English/New Critical concept of "close reading." This debate has risen a few times as part of our discussion on some of the pieces we have looked at leading to the questions "Can we close read this?" and "Will people be willing to close read this?".
Stuart Maulthrop seems to be trying to counteract this argument in Radio Salience as it is difficult to come to terms with the piece without stopping to examine what it is doing. As Amber Frances O'Hara argues, "This game's function and meaning is guided by a set of rules of engagement for the audience." With the way the navigation works, one must spend time with this piece in order to get anything out of it. The image offered in the background is never made obvious--we have to observe the pattern of the shifting foreground images and try to deduce the pattern being provided to us in order to get at the picture and the story the piece want to provide to us.
In other words, this isn't something like Brainstrips where we are free to look at a page, laugh at it, and move on if we wish. With Radio Salience, we have to "close read" it if we are ever going to get anything out of it. Yes, we can click randomly without thinking, and occasionally we'll get it right, but more often than not, we'll lose and be made to start over.
Interestingly, though, while the methodology of the game requires analysis, we are not allowed to do that with the actual stories. Once we can click through, we can see that the story matches the image in some way. For example, I clicked through a picture of a naked man standing in the desert, and he ended up being the general subject of that story. These pieces appear to be short, flash fictions rather than small pieces of a larger whole, but we could be wrong. While the story unfolds at a measured pace, it also automatically shifts back to the game a second after completing, not allowing for true reflection. It's an interesting shift in the focus of the piece.
Discussion Questions
Why might Moulthrop build this system that makes us think and work to succeed, but then leave us no time to reflect on our success? What might he be trying to suggest with that mechanic?
What role does the audio play in this? Is there significance to the reading voice being robotic? What about the channel surfing?
Mark Thomas
Stuart Moulthrop - Radio Salience
In Radio Salience, we are presented with a conundrum: there is a picture in the background. The foreground is split into four, vertical sections, with each section rotating through a random series of images. Our goal is to try and click on an image when it matches what is in the background. Without being lucky, it's basically impossible to intuit immediately what image we are trying to match--it is different every time the game is started (i.e. it doesn't have the same cycle of images). So the player must spend time examining the images that pop up and try to deduce the pattern that is being presented in the randomness. A wrong click will end the "game," forcing the player/viewer/reader to start over.
When we "win," we are shown the full image, though any piece that wasn't specifically on the foreground when clicked will still be partially obscured. Then we get a small story or piece of story that is slowly read to us by an electronic voice. The voice sounds vaguely human and has many of the right cadences, but the reading is stilted and the digital twang makes it obvious this is not a human reader.
There is an audio component to this piece, as well, outside of the voice that reads the stories. While the pictures are shifting, we get a series of random soundbites, split by static, that sound as if a person is surfing the radio for something to listen to. We get a series of commercials, music, stories, etc. On the surface, it seems to have nothing more than the randomness associated with surfing the radio.
Analysis
This month, the question has been raised a few times as to how media has affected the attention span of people and whether or not it is affecting the English/New Critical concept of "close reading." This debate has risen a few times as part of our discussion on some of the pieces we have looked at leading to the questions "Can we close read this?" and "Will people be willing to close read this?".
Stuart Maulthrop seems to be trying to counteract this argument in Radio Salience as it is difficult to come to terms with the piece without stopping to examine what it is doing. As Amber Frances O'Hara argues, "This game's function and meaning is guided by a set of rules of engagement for the audience." With the way the navigation works, one must spend time with this piece in order to get anything out of it. The image offered in the background is never made obvious--we have to observe the pattern of the shifting foreground images and try to deduce the pattern being provided to us in order to get at the picture and the story the piece want to provide to us.
In other words, this isn't something like Brainstrips where we are free to look at a page, laugh at it, and move on if we wish. With Radio Salience, we have to "close read" it if we are ever going to get anything out of it. Yes, we can click randomly without thinking, and occasionally we'll get it right, but more often than not, we'll lose and be made to start over.
Interestingly, though, while the methodology of the game requires analysis, we are not allowed to do that with the actual stories. Once we can click through, we can see that the story matches the image in some way. For example, I clicked through a picture of a naked man standing in the desert, and he ended up being the general subject of that story. These pieces appear to be short, flash fictions rather than small pieces of a larger whole, but we could be wrong. While the story unfolds at a measured pace, it also automatically shifts back to the game a second after completing, not allowing for true reflection. It's an interesting shift in the focus of the piece.
Discussion Questions
Works Cited
O'Hara, Amber Frances. "On Stuart Moulthrop's Radio Silence: Unknown Potentials." amberfrancesohara.com. May 2010. Web. 17 Jun. 2014
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